


Worth

by befree2



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Coming Out, M/M, Original Percival Graves returns to MACUSA, Period Typical Attitudes, Queenie as a confidant, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2018-12-24 13:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12013740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/befree2/pseuds/befree2
Summary: Although Percival feels that he has failed miserably as Director of Magical Security, he reluctantly returns to the job that Gindelwald had been performing during his captivity. When Grindelwald, escaped once more, returns to New York two years after Newt outed him as an impostor, Percival is determined to bring him back into custody.





	1. Chapter 1

Percival could not have cared less about omitting a fact or two from the official report. He submitted his version of events almost precisely as they had truly happened, and if he couldn’t remember every single word that a stranger in a bar had said to him, no one could blame him. He had been kept prisoner in his own attic for months, after all. How could he possibly be suspected for having forgotten the stranger’s face after he had been poisoned by his drink?

Yet, he sat outside the office of Madame Piquery for no other reason than those details which he had omitted and which he had no intentions of revealing to anyone, not even Piquery. Tucked into his breast pocket was a letter of resignation that felt much heavier on his chest than any single sheet of paper ought to.

“Mr. Graves,” a woman’s voice addressed him. “Madame President will see you now.”

“Thank you,” he returned curtly, and mentally steeled himself for the conversation that he had rehearsed so many times in his mind.

“Good afternoon,” Piquery greeted, standing until he had reached his own seat.

“Good afternoon, Madame,” Percival inclined his head politely, pulling the godforsaken letter out of his pocket and taking a breath. “Madame, I-”

“I sincerely hope that you are not going to try to resign, Mr. Graves,” she cut him off.

Of all the ways he had imagined the conversation going and all of the premeditated responses he had practiced, none of them were appropriate as a response to that so he said nothing.

“Give me that,” she said, eyeing the paper with an expression that bordered on annoyance.

“Of course. I am truly sorry to have disappointed you, but as I’m sure you understand-” he tried to segue into one of his comfortably practiced speeches, but was once again stopped by a gesture from Piquery as she skimmed his letter of resignation.

“You believe that you have 'failed as a director' because you were captured, but all the while the entire MACUSA as well as your own Aurours and the other departments with which you work all failed to notice that you were not yourself. You can hardly take the fall for  _ that _ , Mr. Graves.”

“I’m afraid that I simply cannot, in good conscience, continue this line of work when I have failed so spectacularly. And it  _ is _ my fault, to some degree for not having had a close enough relationship with any of my coworkers or neighbors that none of them would recognize me as a fraud. I have put aside a social life for many years in favor of my career and it has been my undoing.”

“And if I do not accept this as a reason for resignation?” Piquery challenged.

Again, he was thrown off course. “Madame, I am resigning from my post,” he stated firmly.

“No,” she said simply. She tossed the letter into the air, catching flames as it descended and landing as ash atop the fine walnut of her desk. At his look of outrage and bewilderment, she crossed her arms.

“I can _ not _ continue to act as Head of the department and I will not have my reputation further sullied by a demotion. I have no other choice but to go into another line of work.”

“But I had no intentions of removing you as Head of the department at all.”

Frustrated, Percival leaned forward with both hands atop the desk. “Madam,” he raised his voice a hair. “This is not a request. I resign and I will not be here on Monday. I will finish out tomorrow by packing away my belongings.”

“ _No_ ,” she repeated, raising her own voice and speaking as if he were a toddler who had not yet grasped the meaning of the word.

“Are you  _ seriously _ -? Look, fire me, then,” Percival challenged. “Fire me instead! I don’t care how you make it happen just as long as I’m no longer on your payroll. It’s that, after all, or you’ll have to fire me for not showing up to work anymore.”

“I’ll just send Goldstein to collect you every morning until your little tantrum is over. You will not be resigning, Mr. Graves.”

Percival was nearly at his wits end, but revealing the true reason for his resignation was simply not an option. “Is this _punishment_?” he asked.

“It is not meant as such,” the corner of his lip twitched. “But consider it what you’d like.

“Have you listened to a thing I’ve said?” Percival gaped at her. “I have been defeated by that man. I failed to protect even myself from him, and I can’t even regain mastery of my  _ own wand _ at the moment because of him!”

“And yet I believe that especially now,” Piquery stook up as well to stare him down, “In the face of all this darkness and the disorganization and distrust within the MACUSA, we need someone with your experience and expertise. You are far from the first to have been bested by Grindelwald, and I could give a rat’s ass if you can’t even cast a  _ lumos _ . You  _ are _ the right man for this job because you have the mind for it,” She stepped around the side of the desk. “There is no one else in your department who can fill your role; they don’t have the brains for this work. Not even your senior Aurours can understand a criminal like you can. Be honest, if I made you chose someone as a replacement, you wouldn’t be able to make a choice because none of them are  _ good enough _ . Four of them with their heads together just aren’t worth what you bring to the team. I  _ need _ you, Graves, and I’m not letting you back out of this because things are rough.” They were nearly nose to nose now. “Is that understood?”

He took a deep, steadying breath. “Yes, Madam,” he finally replied, reluctantly.

“This conversation never happened,” she continued. “I have merely been filling you in on what’s going on in the department during your absence. Here are the reports I’ve gotten from you-or  _ him _ , rather” she handed over a small stack of papers. “While you’re catching up, please check to make sure that he has not meddled into other affairs that he does not belong in.”

“Yes, Madam.” Percival made for the door and hesitated for the briefest moment with a hand on the knob. “Thank you," he told her. He was not sure if he meant it.


	2. Chapter 2

Percival did not meet Newt Scamander until nearly two years after he had captured Grindelwald in the subway. Grindelwald was no longer in their custody, of course, but it had been a small, if short-lived victory regardless and it was all due to Newt.

Tina had often called Newt eccentric, meaning it in the best possible way, and Percival understood why the moment they met.

“Oh, Mr. Graves,Oh--but I suppose we haven’t actually...” the man furrowed his brows. “Well, I’ve met you, sort-of, but you probably _don’t_ know who I am so this is a bit-”

“Mr. Scamander,” Percival rescued him from his jumble of words.

“Right you are.”

“Newt is here for his book,” Tina offered brightly, but Percival wasn’t looking at her at all. Instead he was struck by the similarity of Newt’s features to the man whom Grindelwald had disguised himself as the night he’d been captured. It wasn’t an outright accurate resemblance, but they shared a pale complexion, slim figure and a fetchingly shy demeanor behind a pair of intelligent eyes. “-then we’ll be heading to drop off his latest acquisition to a safe location,” Tina was still talking, but Percival couldn’t remember much of what she’d actually said.

“Do try to cause less of a ruckus than the last time you were in the country, won’t you?” Percival warned, only a hint of teasing in his tone. “Have you got a permit for that ah-’acquisition’, by the way?”

“I’ll make sure he gets into the right hands, thank you Mr. Graves,” Newt said politely, sidestepping the question entirely. “It was really great to finally meet you properly.”

“And you,” he returned, deciding that a permit application would only equate to more time that Mr. Scamander would have to stay in the city, and from the stories he had heard, that was not a good thing.

 

* * *

 

Newt Scamander, however, was invited back to New York only three months after Percival first met him. It was a hot August day and Percival had spent much of his afternoon with his head in the Floo, which had only exacerbated his irritable mood. There were several main reasons for that mood and all of them happened to be British. One was Grindelwald,who was back in the States; secondly was that he was scheduled to meet with the ever-annoyingly optimistic Albus Dumbledore that afternoon; and lastly was the fact that Dumbledore would be bringing Newt Scamander back to New York with him.

The last Brit was the primary reason for his particularly splitting headache, but Percival could hardly say that it was his fault. Against Percival’s warning, Scamander had been called in to help investigate a series of attacks on Muggles, apparently using a magical beast that Scamander, and only few others, had encountered before.

Percival had warned Madame Piquery that it might be a trap meant to get revenge on Scamander for humiliating Grindelwald, but Piquery had insisted on consulting with him regardless and declared that if Percival suspected that Scamander was a target that he should simply be escorted by an Aurour for the entirety of his visit. Only, that wasn’t so simple when the department was already putting in so much overtime that Accounting had visited him for an inquiry about their over-budgeting and audited them twice in the past month.

Percival threw his pen down to rest his elbows on the desk for a moment and rubbed at his temple. A quick glance at the clock told him that Dumbledore and Scamander should be arriving in minutes, prompting him to pour himself a shot of the illegal bourbon he kept stashed away in a secretly extended bottom drawer of his desk.

A knock on his office door preceded his secretary’s entrance within minutes. “Misters Dumbledore and Scamander are here to see you, Sir.”

“Show them in, please.”

She nodded and opened the door wider to let the strange-looking pair in. Newt, wearing his overcoat even in the summer heat and with both hands clutched around the handle of his blasted suitcase as if it were a shield, and Albus, standing as a pillar of sunshine yellow robes that was topped with the most annoyingly jovial face that Percival had even seen.

“Mr. Scamander, Mr. Dumbledore,” Percival started, “Thank you both for coming. Percival Graves,” he introduced himself. “Head of Magical Law Enforcement.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you in person,” Dumbledore returned a handshake.”Please, call me Albus.”

Percival inclined his head in acknowledgement and gestured for them to sit in front of the fire instead of at his desk. “Please make yourselves comfortable. Coffee? Or tea?”

Once they had sorted out their drinks, Percival started, “Mr. Scamander, do you mind sitting with us? For the same reasons I did not want you called in to consult, I’d also like for you to stay with an Aurour during the entirety of your visit. For you own safety, of course, not because I suspect that you’ll have anything illegal in that case,” he added, watching Newt’s hand slide toward the handle of the trunk protectively. He paused at Percival’s words and seemed to relax, if only just a little. “Once we’re done here, you have a standing invitation to join the Goldsteins for dinner and I trust that Aurour Goldstein will be a suitable escort from there on out. Not to mention, she’s the one heading the investigation of this creature.”

“That sounds lovely,” Newt flashed a small smile. “Thank you, Mr. Graves.”

“Right,” he turned to Albus instead. “So, as you know, I’ve been heading the hunt for Grindelwald while he’s here in the States. Brute force and throwing Aurours at him is not likely to yield results, so I’ve determined that we need is to get into his head, if you will," Percival paused a moment to soften his tone. "As I understand it, you knew him quite well?”

Another pause as Albus sipped his tea thoughtfully, then, “I see, yes. Gellert has always been a bit _different_ from his peers. Quirky, in a way, not unlike many others who have such genius and passion,” he glanced at Newt, sitting indian-style on the couch next to him with what appeared to be a rabbit between his knees. Briefly, Percival wondered when he’s even taken it out of his case or if the thing had simply escaped. Dumbledore continued with a sigh, “But he was ridiculed for his differences, and his excitement for discovery and new ideas was not bound by the same moral compass as the rest of us. He was thrown out of Durmstrang for his experiments, Mr. Graves. They deemed him to be mad and Dark, and refused to further the education of such a wizard. I met him after this, and we became friends.”

“Did you notice any Dark tendencies then?” Percival asked unaccusingly.

“At the time, I saw an ambitious, idealistic man with whom I had much in common. There was nothing strictly dark about him. We were inseparable back then, you know. We shared the same goals-still do, actually, but eventually I realized that his reasons and the methods with which he planned to fulfil those goals could not have been more different from my own. We had planned to overthrow the Statute of Secrecy and I’m sure you’re aware by now that he searches for the Deathly Hallows,” Percival nodded once. “I was helping him to find them before we...parted ways.”

“I am sorry to hear about that incident,” Percival told him gently.

Albus nodded his silent thanks. “You see, I wanted to overturn the laws in order to help people. I sincerely believe that our worlds can coexist peacefully. Both muggles and wizardkind would benefit equally from a more unified society, but it seems that tradition and fear has made us too cowardly to even _try_.”

“And Grindelwald?”

“Gellert wants to rule over muggles as if wizards are _gods_ . He sees it as something of a charitable act, to _bless_ muggles with a powerful ruling body of wise wizards who can perform miracles. And it is his obsession with this ideal that I believe has driven him to do terrible things.”

“That sounds quite unstable,” Percival frowned.

“Yes, but he won’t hear a word about it being wrong. That’s the thing about Gellert, you see; he believes with every fibre of his being that what he is trying to accomplish is pure and good and _right_ . He will not accept criticism nor will he consider any unintended consequences of his actions. And from personal experience, I can tell you that I have never seen him set out to do something and fail at it. If he believes that it can be done, he will not stop to ask if it _should_ be done. Instead, he focuses solely on solving whatever problem he set out to fix and anything that gets in his way-anything at all-will be destroyed.”

“What a frightening outlook,” Newt nearly whispered next to Albus, and Percival glanced over at the man, having momentarily forgotten that he was even there. His creature had vanished again.

“Indeed,” Albus inclined his head. “There is one more thing you ought to know,” he added, a little lighter, “You may suspect, but I can confirm that Gellert is homosexual.”

Newt’s eyebrows raised, but he did not comment. Percival lifted his chin to regard Albus with a carefully blank face, rubbing his palms together uncomfortably. “I have suspected that it was so, but is it relevant?”

“It certainly never made him feel any less of an outsider. He was always so different from everyone else around him that he didn’t truly have peers. He was confident, but awkward and had few friends-not good ones, at that-and he could perform magic at a much higher level than his classmates so he never had a peer in any academic regard either. His home life was unconventional, even, and being homosexual only made him feel like he was further on the fringes of society. He does not believe that it is wrong, as some would argue, but it put him at odds with certain people-most people, really.”

“I see,” Percival said carefully. Newt seemed to be studying his own knee. “I will keep that information in mind. Grindelwald-he found one equal, didn’t he? When he met you?”

“Yes, we are very much alike,” Albus said softly.

“I think that you are very different as well,” Percival told him, folding his hands together and trying to process the vat of information Albus had provided. They sank back into small talk as they finished their tea and set off for the Goldsteins’ apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you've enjoyed this so far! I've been hashing out this story for a while, but I figured I should post it before another movie comes out and my idea of how Percival was captured are rendered completely incompatible with the canon story line. More to be posted soon as there are 8 total chapters. I'm nearly done writing chapter 7 now and will keep you updated as things are edited! Please review, constructive criticism is welcome.


	3. Chapter 3

Although Percival had not stayed for dinner the night that Newt and Albus had arrived, he hadn’t been able to refuse Queenie’s offer the second time. “I’ve made a pork roast and boiled potatoes. Do you like carrots, Director Graves? Good. Oh, and a spice cake-everyone likes spice cake,” she smiled widely. Her hands on his shoulders directed him to a chair opposite Newt and between Tina and Albus.

“Wine?” Queenie offered. “And don’t try to give me anything about the booze-ridiculous muggle laws,” she rolled her eyes. “I _know_ about your bourbon stash.”

“Wine would be absolutely amazing,” he sighed gratefully, and Queenie’s smile widened.

“Please, will you stop reading my mind?” he tried.

“It’s hard to ignore when you’re practically shouting things, but I’ll try,” she told him lightly. “I was never much good at blocking things out, you see. Mr. Dumbledore has been teaching me a bit of Occlumency, though,” she added brightly. “Perhaps it’ll help. Come on, now, help yourself,” she handed over a serving spoon and they began to pass around the food.

Percival engaged in polite conversation, mostly with Queenie and Albus throughout dinner. Tina seemed to be afraid to say the wrong thing in front of her boss and Newt was generally quiet to begin with. Newt didn’t really get going until after dessert had been cleared and only the drinks remained on the table.

“...so first I’d like to try to re-acclimate her to a habitat similar to her native one and then introduce her to Genghis-see if they won’t form a bond. She’s quite a bit younger than him, so I don’t expect them to mate, but perhaps he’ll protect her until she finds another suitor,” Newt smiled wistfully. “I’ll miss the girl, of course, but she belongs with her own.”

“But her native habitat-the _ only _ colony is in the heart of the Congo, isn’t it?” Percival asked.

“Well, yes,” Newt laughed a little, taking another sip of wine. His face was pink now and he set the glass down clumsily.

“That’s quite a journey. You won’t be going at it alone, will you?”

“Well, I don’t particularly know anyone else interested in smuggling her across borders and trekking through the jungle, so I suppose I shall  _ have _ to go it alone.”

“You’re a brave man, Mr. Scamander. And you’ve obviously got a lot of heart. Not many people would go to such lengths to help a creature like that.”

“She’s not as dangerous as everyone thinks,” Newt insisted. “She looks scary from far away, but she’s very kind once you get to know her.”

“Then she’s worth the risk, I suppose,” Percival said, and knocked back the last bit of wine from his glass.

“You know,” Newt regarded him thoughtfully, “I can’t seem to understand how none of your colleagues noticed that you weren’t yourself.”

Percival straightened a little at the sudden change in conversation and the unpleasant reminder of his incapacitation. “And why is that?” he asked curiously. On either side of him, conversation had paused and Queenie seemed to be silently begging at Newt to let the subject be.

“You aren’t as intimidating as you first appear either,” Newt said. “You were-before, that is, when it wasn’t really you-but now, I can see that you aren’t some cold, ruthless Aurour. You would never have even considered the measures he was trying to-”

“Newt,” Tina took his arm in one hand and pushed his wine glass away with the other. “Queenie was going to make some cocoa. Would you like a cup before we turn in for the night?”

“Oh, no thank you,” he declined. “I’d take one more glass of the Elfen White if you’ve got it, though?” he added hopefully.

“How about I split the last glass?” Tina offered most of what remained to Percival and poured a few sips for Newt. “Cheese?” she pushed a plate between them.

“Oh, if Mr. Scamander will have a taste with me, I suppose,” Percival said lightly, and gave Tina a small wink as Newt tried a piece of cheddar. “I should get going after this glass, I’m afraid,” he told her. “It  _ is _ Saturday tomorrow, but I had planned on being up at a decent time and it won’t do to be seen sporting a hangover while I run my errands.”

“I’ll pack you a potion to help with that,” Tina told him. “And a piece of spice cake, to have with your morning coffee, perhaps?”

“Oh, buttering me up, are you? I'll still need your report on Monday,” he smiled sympathetically.

“Nearly done. I’ll put the finishing touches on it and have it on your desk first thing Monday morning.”

“Oh, don’t stress over it this weekend. The end of the day will do fine. _Enjoy_ your days off,” he told her.

“You,” Newt interrupted them, gesturing across the table to Percival, “You are  _ such _ a nice boss. If I had a boss, I hope he’d be as nice as you are,” he popped another piece of cheese into his mouth.

“Thank you, Mr. Scamander,” he said politely, trying to ignore the others’ barely-contained laughter.

“Newt, please,” he corrected. “May I call you Percival?” he asked, and continued without waiting for an answer. “I really hope you catch that imposter-Grindelwald...before he hurts more people. It kills me to know that he’s used innocent creatures to further his agenda and I’d hate to think of all the other innocent people he’s hurt as well.”

Percival finished his wine and sighed down at the table. “I will certainly try, Newt,” he promised, his tone now serious. “I’ll try.”


	4. Chapter 4

“Is this the place?” Percival asked, as Tina came to a stop on the sidewalk. There was nothing remarkable about the building they stood in front of; a run-down apartment building in the not-so-great part of the city, with crumbling brickwork and chipping paint that hardly served to differentiate it from any other building on the street. Yet Percival hadn’t truly needed to ask if they were at the correct address because the moment the report had landed on his desk, he knew exactly where to find Worth’s Tavern.

“Yes,” Tina answered, looking around to see that no one was watching as she pulled out her wand. “We put the whole scene on stasis, Sir,” she explained, undoing the spellwork. “We didn’t want any of the evidence to be tampered with.”

“Good,” he nodded tersely. He began to walk about the exterior of the building, pretending to examine the place for clues while he mentally steeled himself to take the steps inside. “What can you tell me about this place so far?”

“Well,” Tina followed a few steps behind him, sweeping the scene with her own eyes. “It’s run by a no-maj named Robert Worth. He’s the bartender here and he’s our main witness. He lives right upstairs if you’d like to follow up.” Percival nodded, raising his eyes toward the upper windows. “The clients are all no-maj’s too, as far as we’ve been able to tell, so I can’t really figure out why he’d attack  _ here _ , of all places. And no one even got hurt. It doesn’t add up,” she stopped as they had circled the entire building and stood back at the top of the stairs leading down to the entrance. “Shall we?” she gestured lightly.

Percival nodded, forcing himself to step down and opened the door slowly. He took a single step inside, not even far enough to let Tina through behind him. The place looked much the same as he remembered it; dark corners, mismatched tables and a rickety bar. The stools were strewn about and a few broken glasses and the single burnt streak of a curse across the ceiling were the only real visible marks the attack had happened. It was still familiar and nerve-wracking and he could remember sitting in  _ that _ stool-the second one from the front with the tear in the back cushion that he couldn’t see from where he was standing but  _ knew _ that it was there because they were the same ones from two years ago.

“If the statements are anything to go by, that probably wasn’t from the attack.” Tina told him, and Percival only realized then that he’d walked fully inside and was running a hand across the torn barstool-back. “This was never the fanciest establishment,” she eyed the nearest table leg which had a cardboard shim underneath to stop it from wobbling. 

Percival let his eyes wander again, just to distract himself if nothing else. Because Grindelwald had sat right  _ there _ , disguised as a shy young man who’d smiled and flirted with him as he’d slipped a potion into his gigglewater. In his mind’s eye, he could still see the man’s polyjuiced face smiling flirtatiously as he had pushed the drink across the bar-burbon on the rocks.

“So, Grindelwald is claiming to be directly responsible for this, if I understand correctly. He went to the trouble of specifying that he didn’t send someone else to carry out the attack, but that he came here in-person,” Tina was frowning. “Which still doesn’t quite make sense to me.”

Percival shook himself and drew his wand. He needed to get this done without being sidetracked. “I’m not sure either,” he told her truthfully. “Let’s see what we can find.”

 

After half an hour of casting charms and spells over the place, however, they had found absolutely nothing useful that they hadn’t already known and had resigned to going over the bar for physical evidence instead.

“Storeroom is clean,” Tina sighed, stepping into the bathroom doorway as Percival moved the lid off one of the toilets to check the tank.

“So is the lavatory,” Percival grunted as he bent down to check behind the base of the sink. 

“There is one more little room, but I’m not really sure it’s even considered part of the bar. I asked the ‘tender and he said that it’s a storage cupboard, but it’s only accessible from the alleyway. Stupid place for storage if you ask me."

Percival knew what room she was talking about, but he wasn’t about to let on about it to her. “How odd."

“Here,” she led him around the building and opened the dingy door in the alleyway. “It’s completely empty, except for some cardboard,” she pulled the flattened box away from the wall for a moment. “Oh-” she stopped, and Percival dreaded what she might say next. “There’s a hole,” she told him lamely, stooping down. “I think I can see the back of the paneling on the wall behind it. Do you think they had run a pipe through there at one time?”

Percival tried very hard not to think about what ‘pipe’ had been shoved through that hole. “Let’s go, Goldstein. This place is filthy and I’d like to read through everything again.”

“Sure,” she straightened back up, thankfully without touching that wall, and stepped toward the exit with him. “Would you like to talk to Mr. Worth?”

“No."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! Please review and if you liked it leave a Kudos. Keep an eye out for more chapters soon and enjoy!


	5. Chapter 5

“Just in time, Mr. Graves!” Queenie grinned as he stepped inside the apartment, Tina shutting the door behind him. “Dinner is almost ready.”

“That sounds lovely,” Percival gave her a small smile.

“Newt might be just a little late, but he should be arriving before dark,” Tina told him

“I didn’t know he was back in town,” Percival shrugged his coat off and gave her an appreciative smile when she took it for him.

“Well, he isn’t yet. Jacob is waiting at the docks for him,” Queenie answered. “Go on and make yourself comfortable. Wine?” she paused with a finger on the cork of a dark bottle but didn’t wait for him to verbalize an answer. “Oh, sure! There’s white pantry. Tina, would you?”

“You’ve got to stop doing that,” Tina grumbled, going to get a bottle of Percival’s prefered drink.

“I’m sorry,” Queenie glanced at Percival with an apologetic smile. “I really can’t seem to help it. It’s not that I’m trying to be a neb-nose, but Mr. Dumbledore’s Occlumency attempts were an utter failure.”

“It’s quite alright,” Percival sympathised. “I’d imagine that it is a gift  _ and _ a curse at times.”

“Too true,” she sighed. “You know,” she glanced at the pantry where Tina was still searching for the wine and dropped her voice, “I know a lot of people’s secrets, Mr. Graves, and I know how to keep them.” She gave him a pointed look before yelling over to Tina, “Bottom shelf, second from the left.”

“Oh! There we are,” Tina grinned and brought two bottles to the table.

“Let me,” Percival gave a halfhearted wave of his wandless hand and watched Tina’s delighted face as three glasses poured themselves and hovered in front of them, waiting to be taken. 

“Snazzy,” Queenie grinned, snatching her glass up to toast them. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” they returned.

Newt and Jacob returned just as they were about to pour their next glass. “Hello,” Jacob smiled at them all and pecked Queenie on the lips. “And  _ hello _ ,” he chuckled.

“Good evening, everyone,” Newt greeted politely, setting his suitcase down next to the coat rack and removing his jacket before he hugged the girls and shook Percival’s hand. 

“Sit down, sit down,” Queenie insisted. “Let’s get some food. You must be  _ starving _ after that journey.”

They tucked into a table of steaming homemade food and mostly listened to Queenie talk about the local going-ons until Tina asked Newt to tell them about his most recent trip.

“Oh, the usual, you know,” he poked at a turnip. “I got a call about a bit of a disturbance out in Wales. Couple of farmers said there was something lurking around their livestock, but it turned out that a Porlock that was trying to protect the herd. No harm done. How has your work been going?” Newt returned.

“Oh, getting nowhere,” Tina grimaced, sharing a glance with Percival.

“Oh? That’s no good,” Newt frowned.

“Yeah. Nothing about it makes any sense. It’s like we’re missing a piece of the puzzle, you know? We went to check out this run-down old place that got attacked for seemingly no reason.”

“Oh?”

“Worth’s Tavern, just down the street, actually. Things are getting awfully close to home.”

“Worth’s?” Newt raised an eyebrow. “Dingy little place?”

“Yes,” she paused mid-bite, curious “You’ve been?”

“Oh, well I-” Newt swallowed, suddenly aware of Queenie’s eyes darting between himself and Percival as something in his mind seemed to  _ click _ , “But I thought-I mean, Grindelwald attacked this place, you say?”

“Mr. Scamander,” Percival spoke up, “It’s an ongoing investigation, we aren’t really supposed to say much about the details of the case,” he glanced at Tina. 

“Oh, yes. Of course,” he bit his bottom lip. Tina frowned.

Conversation moved on to Jacob’s booming business and the prospect of his moving to a larger location. “It’s not settled yet, but I’m seriously considering the move. The street is busier and more central to a lot of the factories, where people pass by on their way to and from work. We could do plenty of lunchtime specials, or half-dozen treat boxes to take home after the shifts are over.”

“Oh, that would be lovely,” Newt admonished.

“I did bring a little something for us, if we’re all done with the main course,” Jacob grinned, standing up to fetch a paper box from the kitchen. 

“Oh, my favorite!” Queenie gushed, before he had even opened the bag. “Let me clear these away,” she waved her wand at the dishes to send them to the sink.

“Yes, my dear,” he plucked a pastry out of the box and passed it along. “Have one, please.”

“Oh, good. Let me see, I’ve got another bottle of wine,” Queenie stood to fetch it from the pantry and held it out to Percival, “Would you pour the toast?”

“Of course,” he gathered the empty glasses and poured them with a wave of his hand as he had done only an hour ago.

“Oh, what a delightful bit of magic,” Tina watched in fascination. “I could never maintain that sort of concentration.”

“It certainly is impressive,” Newt remarked, catching his glass out of the air in front of him.

“Well, if it’s impressive even to you, you must understand how  _ I _ feel,” Jacob smiled, taking the glass in front of him daintily. “Cheers,” he added.

“To our Aurours,” Queenie offered. “For all of the hard work and overtime you’ve been putting in to keep us all safe.”

“Cheers to that,” Jacob agreed.

“Cheers,” Newt replied, echoed by the Aurours themselves.

 

A half-hour after desert, Newt cornered Percival on the sofa. “Mr. Graves,” he slid onto the edge of the cushion, drink in hand. The other three were talking in the kitchen as the dishes washed themselves. “I wanted to speak to you, if you will? I know that work is the last thing you want to hear about right now, but...this Worth’s Tavern-do you really think it has no connection to Grindelwald?”

“Do you know something, Newt?” Percival asked evasively. His pulse was hammering in his chest but he forced himself to keep calm.

He looked uncertain, nervous on the edge of his seat. “I would appreciate your discretion in the matter, but I happen to have visited that bar once,” he paused, biting his bottom lip.

“Do you believe that the attack had anything to do with your patronage?” Percival pressed.

“I highly doubt it. The thing is,” Newt lowered his voice, not meeting Percival’s eyes. “I remember Mr. Dumbledore mentioning something about Grindelwald- that he is a homosexual. A-And Worth’s is...well, it’s a bit of a meeting spot for men to meet up. Men on a certain...tendency. All very hush. I’m not sure if it’s the connection you’re looking for, but it seems important to let you know…It might be relevant.”

Percival’s palms were sweating, but he kept his drink in his hands so that they weren’t idle. “I see,” he inclined his head. “I appreciate your concern and the new facts,” he glanced up at the girls in the kitchen, “I...I don’t plan on discussing the source of this information, although Queenie may glean it from my mind.”

“The Goldsteins are aware of my...proclivities. I cannot keep anything from Queenie’s mind, even  _ that _ ,” Newt took a long draught of his wine and set the empty glass down a little too hard. 

“I understand. At the very least, I will not divulge that you were the source of this information to anyone within MACUSA, should it need to come to light,” Graves promised. “There’s no need to get you into any sort of trouble with the law.”

“Newt,” Tina called over to him, “You need a refill?”

“Please,” he returned, then cleared his throat. “Thank you,” he inclined his head slightly and fled back to the kitchen, leaving the awkward conversation behind.


	6. Chapter 6

Percival nearly jumped when he entered his office to find a figure sitting in front of his desk. “Excuse me-?” he stopped as Queenie turned her head around. He should have been relieved that it was her, someone he knew and recognized, but the fact that it was _her_ set him more on edge. “Goldstein,” he greeted instead, taking a few tentative steps forward. “May I help you?”

She smiled, like always, but it was tight. “Mr. Graves,” she started slowly. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to speak to you. Have a moment?” she asked, but before he answered verbally she had gleaned the information from his mind and nodded. “An hour-that’s good. More than enough time to get started. Will you sit?”

Percival eyed her warily, then flicked his hand at the door to lock it.

“Better do with a silence spell too, if you’re that concerned about it,” Queenie said innocently. As he cast that as well and took the few careful steps around to the chair behind his desk, she began to fix tea for them both. “May as well get comfortable, yes? You know why I’m here.”

“Yes,” he said, although he knew it wasn’t a question. “Must you be so meddling?”

“Hm, yes,” she flashed him a wide smile before settling back to a much more serious expression than she usually wore. “Well, since you’ve only got an hour, let me be frank,” she set down the kettle and sat back a little straighter in her chair. “I know many things about many different people, and although I don’t try to glean information about things, especially your Aurour cases, sometimes it just _happens_ . So,” she stuck him with a business-like glare. “Although I am _not_ an Aurour, I do know quite a bit about the Grindelwald case and it’s come to my attention to you are the only other person who seems to be privy to all or most of the details. So it only makes sense to...” she paused for half a beat, looking for the right words. “To _compare notes_."

“Do you know something that I don’t?”

She heaved a sigh. “I'd like to find out. Let’s start with what we both know, shall we? The attack on Worth’s Tavern; Grindelwald disguised himself as a young, handsome man-Dear me, he looked a bit like Newt, did he? Oh, and he overtly suggested that he was looking to take you home before he slipped a potion into your drink. You haven’t told a _soul_ , Mr. Graves," She eyed him pityingly, even as he seemed to be willing his thoughts to quiet, "Not even Piquery knows...”

“Goldstein,” Percival gritted his teeth. “You don’t get to come in here, making assumptions about-”

“ _Stop_ .” All trace of the beautiful smile she usually wore was stripped. “I want to _help_ you, not to out your secret-not to anyone but yourself, anyways." She rolled her eyes, annoyed. "I would have liked for you to feel that you could have come to talk to me about this, but obviously you’re as stubborn as any straight man I’ve ever met.” She hesitated, and her voice softened a bit. “Mr. Graves, I realize that you can’t read _my_ mind, but I assure you, I mean you no ill will.”

Percival looked to the ceiling as he took a deep, calming breath, as if willing some higher power to remove Queenie from his office. “I have _not_ told a soul, Miss Goldstein, because I do not feel that it is an appropriate topic of conversation.” It was as close as he had ever come to verbally admitting that he occasionally enjoyed the company of men.

“No...you feel that it reflects poorly on yourself. Being a homosexual does not make you a weak man, Mr. Graves. Grindelwald targeted you specifically _because_ you are a powerful man. Taking you from Worth’s was simply a convenience. You had a routine-a pattern of behavior which you engaged in without the knowledge of any of your friends or family members or co-workers. It was the easiest way to capture you without a fuss. If you were a different man, he might have pulled you into an alley on your walk to work or captured you when you went to the lavatory during dinner some night. You _know_ all of this, Mr. Graves. _I_ only know this because it's up there," she pointed to his forehead, frowning. "What it boils down to-the fact that he planned to capture you, however he intended to do so, had nothing to do with where you actually were that night. So why can you not accept that fact?”

“Is this a therapy session?” Percival scowled. “Is this pity?”

“Neither,” Goldstein sighed and sipped her tea. “Why did he attack Worth’s last week?”

He raised his brows and shook his head. “If I knew-”

“You think it was to rub it in your face-not just the fact that he managed to capture you, but the fact that he knows your secret.”

Percival rolled his eyes to the ceiling in desperation. “I’m not sure why you’re even asking me questions, if you know the truth behind the answer - which I wouldn’t have told you, by the way.”

Queenie smirked a little. “Just need you to think about things-to focus a bit. I’m not an Aurour-”

“As you’ve mentioned.”

“ _But_ , I don’t think that was the case. Grindelwald’s known about you for all this time now. He hasn’t attacked your public image and gone to the tabloids or started spreading rumors about you. If he wanted to put pressure on you politically, he wouldn’t have done it like this. But _still_ , you feel that this was a message of some sort, and I don’t disagree.”

“So, what sort of message do you believe he was trying to send?”

Queenie faltered now. “I’m not sure.”

“He _did_ send an actual message,” Percival picked up his tea thoughtfully.

“He specified that it was _him_ ?” She pulled the fact from his mind. “Personally _him_ and not just a lackey?” Queenie stared at him with furrowed brows as she skimmed over his thoughts, which were void of any conclusions. Instead, she drew her own. “Is he...is he asking you to _meet_ him there?”

“What?” his head shot up.

Queenie’s mind seemed to be putting something together. “The attack-no one was hurt, right? So what was the curse for?”

“Dunno. There was a mark across the ceiling, but we weren’t able to figure out what spell it was from.”

“What if it didn’t matter. What if it wasn’t _meant_ to hurt anyone. Maybe he just wanted your attention? H ow would he arrange a meeting? There were no _times_ specified, no _date,_ " she searched Percival's thoughts, but they were a jumble of confusion. “Did you go there on a certain day? An approximate time of the afternoon? Was there a specific place you sat or-?"

“Oh _god_ ,” Percival nearly dropped his cup, and across from him, Queenie's face had flushed and she went silent.

“I can't be certain, and I know I'm not an Aurour, but I think you’re quite correct,” Queenie said quietly. “He’ll be there. And he knows that you wouldn’t _dare_ risk telling anyone, even to get backup. You know exactly where he’ll be and you can’t do a goddamn thing about it. That's his message. It is, indeed, a  _game_ , Mr. Graves.” She paused. “How are you going to play it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a review, constructive criticism is appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review and if you liked it, look for updates soon!


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